


summer will come around eventually

by lmnbrg



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Best Friends, Cute Ending, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Antfrost (Video Blogging RPF), Platonic Soulmates, Scared TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit is Not Okay (Video Blogging RPF), Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 10:07:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29997738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lmnbrg/pseuds/lmnbrg
Summary: [ REVIVED!TOMMY ]Tubbo is oh-so not pleased when he finds out what Antfrost did at Tommy's memorial for him, and it's a certainly awful coincidence that Tommy is with him the moment they confront each other about it. Normally, Tommy would join in the argument and back Tubbo up, but... this isn't the Tommy he knew. This isn't the Tommy everyone remembered. This is a scared child, a trembling kid afraid for his life and drowned in his anxiety and overthinking.
Relationships: Tommyinnit & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Tommyinnit & Tubbo, Tubbo & Tommyinnit
Comments: 6
Kudos: 296





	summer will come around eventually

**Author's Note:**

> heads up for some mentions of manipulation and such throughout the fic!!
> 
> all i need in my life is tubbo being protective of revived!tommy and helping him heal. maybe then i'll be happy and satisfied

“Not one step further.”

Antfrost freezes in place with a sharp sword pointed at his neck, but he has a maniac type of grin. The sweat in his palms gives it all away though. He didn't picture this scenario, that's for sure. 

Finally, he speaks. “Hey there, Tubbo.”

Tubbo wears the sternest look Antfrost has ever seen in a kid. “What do you want?”

“I just wanted to see Tommy—”

“He's behind me.” Tubbo gestures as Tommy clings to Tubbo's comfy jacket's sleeve. “You can look at him and go away.”

“Aw, I can't talk to him?” This just makes Tubbo sick. “BBH wanted to see him, too!”

He interrupts before any more words are spoken. “Do you think I'm stupid?”

Well.

“I would answer, but I do have a sword to my throat, so…”

_Antfrost was slain by Tubbo__

He respawns right beside them — Tubbo knew he would because he saw him reset it when he got close to them. Tommy grips Tubbo's shoulder, hoping he can get the ‘this isn't needed’ message across.

Tommy wonders if Tubbo didn't get what he was trying to say or if he just ignored him since he didn't stop there.

“You Eggpire fucks are sick in the head and I'm not having it in the slightest, Antfrost.” Tubbo advises. The sword he holds is still in position in case he gets close again. “You think I don't know what you did at Tommy's memorial?”

Antfrost chuckles. Tubbo admires the nerve this guy has.

“Don't fucking laugh in my face.” Tommy is scared of his best friend right now. “You _danced_ on it, on a forsaken _memorial_ for a _dead kid_ made by his _best friend_. There's something so wrong with you and I won't risk letting you step near him, not you nor anyone from your stupid red omelet.”

“So you're being obsessive? Not allowing anyone near Tommy? Sounds odd.”

Tubbo snorts. “You're funny thinking you can use that to get me. No—Tommy can go anywhere he wants and spend time with anyone he wants, but I'm not letting any freaks like you near him.”

This isn't good. Tommy feels on edge, anxious and scared. He would rather just leave than have Tubbo yell at Antfrost in vain for nothing. He just really wants to go home.

“Tubbo, I'm doing okay. You don't need to keep this going.”

Antfrost points frantically. “See? He wants to talk to me!”

“No, I don't.” Tommy answers almost immediately. God, his heart pounds so quickly in his chest. It feels heavy. “I wanna leave.”

That hit Tubbo like a train.

“Ah—I… okay, we can just—yeah, we will now. I'm sorry.”

“It's okay.”

* * *

Tubbo feels guilty.

Guilty for letting his anger and grudges get the best of you in a moment when he should've just grabbed Tommy's arm and got him out of there. Because he was getting anxious and Tubbo was too angry to realize that.

Tubbo was too angry that someone would be tone deaf enough to dance on a memorial of (at the time) dead his best friend and think— _know_ they could get away with it. Angry because that was his safe place until he found out Tommy was alive. Angry because he's supposed to be the strong one, to stay strong for Tommy. Angry because he doesn't know how many times he has to be baited into the idea that his best friend died until he actually has.

He's scared that he'll live in denial forever if Tommy actually dies.

‘ _If_ ’… oh, Tubbo.

“Tommy, I'm sorry.” Tubbo whispers as Tommy holds his own face with his hands, resting his forehead on Tubbo's shoulder as they sit side by side. They're at Ranboo's house by themselves since he's away — probably with the Syndicate somewhere, Tubbo thinks. “I made you cry. I'm really sorry.”

Tommy sighs, exasperated. He needs to calm down. “No, it isn't—it's not your fault. It's fine. I just have a hard time holding these huge shit feelings back and then start crying like a pussy.”

“I understand.” He rubs Tommy's back in circles carefully. “You don't have to feel bad about that. I know it's not on purpose, you need time.”

“It fucking sucks, though.” Tommy pulls away, leaning his back on the couch. “I just… I wish I could do the things I used to do.”

Tubbo wears a frown. “Tommy…”

“I know I was only gone for not even a week, but—it was so awful in the afterlife or hell or whatever the fuck that hole is called.” He fidgets with his fingers nervously. “Every time I think about—him, and the things he did to me while I was in that cell and—and Wilbur, oh that motherfucker—” Tommy's starting to tremble. Hands are shaking. Anxiety rising. “He—he hurt me so much, not physically like Dream but… the things he's… the things he said to me and the things he said he'd do when he comes back—”

“Tommy, take some deep breaths.”

“I'm terrified of him. I'm so fucking scared of my—the person who I thought was my brother.” He's crying again. Tommy pulls away from Tubbo harshly, it's abrupt and he hits his friend in the face accidentally. Tubbo didn't mention it. “He—Tubbo, that wasn't him. That wasn't even the Wilbur from fuckin' _Pogtopia_. He's scary and he talks in the way that it fucks with your brain and makes you question who you are, where you are, how you are, why you exist. I-I don't even know how he does it! If you told me to tell you what he said, I—I can't tell you! I don't know!”

“But I won't, Tommy. I won't ask.” Tubbo wants to hug him. He wants to hug his best friend and younger brother but he refrains from doing so. As loud as his wants scream, Tommy's wellbeing is way more important and it would do more harm than good. “I won't ask what he did, I believe you. You don't have to prove anything to me, you don't— _hell_ , you could tell me anything and I'd follow you. Please, Tommy. I promise you're safe.”

Tommy can't hear him. Tubbo's speaking buzzwords, and it's overwhelming. Wilbur's voice rings inside his head with no end, and it makes him feel trapped. Cornered. Shut down. _Imprisoned_. He can't breathe. The air in his lungs is suffocating him, it's choking him. _It hurts it hurts it hurts_. _Make it stop_ , he would plead. _Please, I can't feel my hands_.

He holds the sides of his face with his hands and hides it between his knees, close to his chest. Tommy's chest goes up and down but not because he's breathing — he's crying. The poor boy cries so hard it feels like he's being ripped apart piece by piece, vulnerability by vulnerability, bone by bone. But this isn't worse than death.

Tommy would know. He knows.

“A-And Dream—” He shivers. “Dream didn't let me sl-sleep. He would wait until I'm almost asleep and then yell my name to scare me. For a week on the—the row, he threatened to kill me and bring me back to life countless times. Death hurts so-so much, Tubbo, I felt like I was being shredded to dust and—the afterlife is so dark, it's colorless and deadly. I didn't want to die. I don't want to die. I'm scared.”

“Tommy—”

“I can't eat because it all tastes bland and it makes me sick. I can't drink water either because I fear that he's gonna ‘pat’ my back while I do it. I can't walk without my legs shaking and giving up on me. I can't breathe without choking on air. I can't laugh because my chest hurts.”

Tommy is desperate. His tone is heartbreakingly hopeless, and the tears burn his eyes the more he cries. They're red, his face is scuffed and his cheeks are puffy. The bandages Tubbo used on his wounds are barely hanging on anything, the tears soaked them. His heart is sticking to his forehead. Tommy feels sick to his stomach and he wants to ask for help so badly but he can't. It's in vain. It doesn't matter. It's all for nothing.

“I can't even hug you anymore.”

Tubbo doesn't have the heart to speak.

“Remember when I gave up my discs for L'manberg, and when I got there after giving them to Dream, you ran quickly towards me and I caught you in my arms and we both fell? I can't do that anymore, I'm weaker than I have ever been. How you'd braid my hair whenever I was stressed? We can't do that anymore either, my hair is shit. And how you'd wipe my tears with your fingers and hug me, tell me that it would be okay eventually because we're together? I can't handle people touching me, it makes me feel ill.”

Tommy thought he was done crying, but then he whines and lets out something similar to a choked squeak. He's sobbing again, and it physically hurts him.

“I'm not me. I'm not Tommy. I'm not alive.”

“You are.” Tubbo begins, and his voice is as sweet and low as it has ever been. It doesn't spook Tommy, he doesn't feel on edge when he listens to Tubbo's voice. “I know how it feels to be scared of everything and anything cornering you. Boxes, obsidian, the color yellow, red ties, the smell of alcohol, festival decorations, rocket launchers. Everything that we seem to care about gets hurt, I know. I know it hurts so much and it feels like it won't ever go away.”

“It won't…”

“That's where you're wrong. It will.” This is soothing. Although, Tubbo's struggling not to get closer to Tommy and give him a comforting and right hug. “You know what my childhood friend said to me and everyone when everything seemed to be over?” Tommy doesn't look at him, he just waits. “What's the point in doing anything if you've lost all hope?”

Tommy flinches.

“So it's not over.” Tubbo holds out both of his hands, his palms up. He doesn't expect Tommy to put his own there, but it's worth trying and waiting. “You've been through more than anyone I know, and you're actually so strong for enduring all of this and still coming out alive. Only you know what it felt like to be picked apart in small pieces and being put back together, and anyone who invalidates how hurt you are from it and the manipulation you endured is stupid and insensitive. But I'm here for you, Tommy. I'm here to tell you that even if you might think everything is lost, there will be someone to help you get your light back.”

Light.

Light. _Light_ , Tubbo says. Tommy brings joy everywhere he goes, even if most people would say otherwise just to tease him. His laugh is loud and there's not a glimpse of shyness in it. His smile is wide and unafraid and it makes you feel like you're obligated to smile along. His words make themselves heard and passionate, he got that from Wilbur.

But he lost it… all of it. _Gone_ , just like that.

“Think of it like the sun during the winter.” Tubbo keeps going. “The sun rises and falls everyday and, when it's night, you feel lost. Even when it's daytime, it still feels like it's dead. That's you right now, you don't feel good but you're still alive. But after winter, there's spring — that's when you heal. There's a bit more light now, but it still isn't quite what we want. We currently aren't there yet, but it'll come around eventually. After spring, there's the summer. The sun shines brighter than ever, and that's when you feel like you're alive again. Definitely not a hundred percent healed — realistically, maybe that's… impossible, but it all gets better. It's not like it won't hurt, it will hurt less. Breathing won't hurt as much as it used to. Hugging someone won't make you feel as scared. Having your favorite meal for lunch will make you satisfied.”

Yeah. Yeah… that sounds nice. 

“I hope summer comes around as soon as possible, Tubbo.”

“Me too, Tommy. Me too.” Tubbo smiles when Tommy places his hands over his, and he holds them as gently as he can. “It won't feel like this forever. Summer is worth the wait, and so are you. You're worth more than words could tell.”

“The wording sounds…”

Tubbo chuckles lightheartedly. “Awfully familiar? I know. I did it on purpose.” He inhales. “It doesn't… hurt me anymore—I mean, it did for a long time, I'll admit—but then again, you chose me over your discs. That says enough, does it not?”

Tommy smiles. It's a weak one, but it's a good start. It's like a dead flower blooming back to life. Whereas, to actually do this, the roots of the flower have to be alive. Tubbo is there, so all he needs is patience to make it work. To give Tommy closure. Surround him in a healthy environment. Make him feel safe. Friends and family there for him. Support.

Tubbo is just one person, so maybe, just _maybe_ , it's unrealistic to say he can do it on his own. But if he has to become everything Tommy needs to heal, then he will.

“Thank you, Tubbo.” He says sincerely, as vulnerable as Tommy has ever shown himself to be. “You... you do mean a lot to me.”

“You do as well, big man.”

They can't see spring yet, but it'll get to them around soon enough. The light of the summer will come to bath Tommy in warm sunlight, and he will get his brightness back. 


End file.
